The Laurens advertiser. (Laurens, S.C.) 1885-1973, 1887-03-02

a Miss Fanny Cyartcr. Even that didn't
stlddy him long. Scch cyarryin's on :
was III that ar house, specially tho
nights artcr Pow'tan boat day, would "a
made decent folks hyar stan on end
sub. For all this N that, you couldn't
help likin the fcller, to save your life.
lie hadn' an inimy in tho world 'thout
twas hisself. $ for Miss Fanny Cyar-
ter, she fyar!y worshippcd him, I've
heerd tclE. Ennyhow, She wouldn' mar
ry him, but nuthcr would she give him
UP for nigh 'pon ten years. Said she
wouldn take drunkurd nor a gam Ter,
but she'd never take hur word back. nor
marry nobody else.
'Ia-as, sur. said ten ycar-'n' Inc
! didn't git no younger nor richer N all
time you may be sure. He turned gray
powerful fas', but he los money fastrr,
lie were very dark comploctcd had
French blood in him-quality blood o.
the bcS' sort, | been hear tcll-an' had
! Jt black hyar. One curious thing WAS
that ono OF his eyebrows got gray II
'tothcr didn'. He use to say S how NIL
his brains had settled n orc side o. $
had. 1t give him kind % outlandisb
look, though.
"'Wcll, things got wuss'n' wuss, till
1t came to seliin' oil s race hosscs. then
II ni8Gcr or two. That cut him up
mig htily. His nigqcrs was powerful
fond o him. He never laid lick on
one on EN- when he WIS sober n eff he
tcchcd aWlip to 'em when he had a
good haid o liquor in, he'd pitch 'cm
money by the han 'ful nox' day "fur to
mint the sores" he'd say.
One evcnin' he como home by his
self. Twas of Il Monday-Dcccmb
day, | rcklect, N he'd been way
morc'n fortnit. Part o. the time t Mr..
Cyartcr's in Gooshlan' They did saws
how Miss Fanny 'scardcd him t..cn
I. good N all, bcin' nyar wore out, poor
girl! an no wonder, with S dis'putcd
ways Emmy how, he'd stopped Sntday
night t inw'tGn coat-housc, II sot up
all night n all Sunday n most all o.
Sunday night playin' cyards up stairs in
the tavern with some Richmon' gam
blcrs, n when he lcf' the cont house
they got his money, every cent OF il, N
his plantation, n Mggcrs, n his watch
n S horses. lie had to foot il ali the
nine miles home.
"'Wcll, sub! Royal, his body servant,
he see him a-scttin' N the big cheer MS
had b'iongcd to his mother by the par
lor lire, mighty down like resin his
haid on his hans, N Royal he took m
fotched him a hot drink, KNOWN lis
ways, you see, sub, . had nice supper
cook i'm him, but be wouldn't tech drup
nor moullul, an when it came dark-n
bad rainy night twas, too -hc wandered
OIL on the plantation. Thar wurnt n
niggcr quarter he didn' go inter that ar
night, an he'd the same story every
whur.
" 'I'm a-stWtin' on long Journey"
sez he, ''an' | want fur to take your
good will with me-, scH lie. 81 uint
been good marstcr to You, an | can't
go 'thout you forgive lac, )" scz be-
Every one on en- was tit to break
thar hearts a-cryin', when he talked SO
mouniul, an they all tolc him how much
store they sot by him an all that, but
he couldn seem to take no comfort in
what they said. Nigh pom midnight
twas, when thar come a kuocki' Mt our
outside do, an my father, he got up
th'nkin' Somethin' was the mnrttcr with
the stock or somcthin n othcl. An
thar stood Mr.. Mos ley, wet : II
drowndyd rat an white s Il sheet. Id
got up, too an w,ts li3tcuiu' behind
the do, an hccrd him going over the
same sort O fyarwcll to my father.
Z" An then my father, sen he, "Alr.
Mosclcy, scz he Gather bcin' Il Meth
odis' class leader xortcry, "NIr. Nose
ley, scz he, right straight out O. the
hymn book:
" while the lamp hol's out to burn,
The vlicst sinner mOught return,
sez he. Grub out, n b'gin ag'in, sub. :"
scZ he, "'s never too late to men. >"
All! many's the time I've thought o.
them ar words scncc, and how solemn
my father said EN-, he bciu' 'XortcYs
SAID. ''Ncver too late to men, Mr.
Moscley,' sez he.
- can scz he, laughn' kinder
cnr'ous.like, "ther's nothn e,l left to
men, Mr.. Bass, an wuss'n nothin' fur
to men it with. ] don't knows the
devil II think me worth pickin up. Bat
good-by! good-by!" an he was of IN
the rain an win. "Twas les aritcr
sun.up mex mornin', but still a-ruinin'
cats n dogs, you mought say, when here
come Royal a-racin' an a-bcllcrin' down
to our house fur to tell rs he'd foun' his
master stone dead an cole on the pnrlur
floor under his mothers pictur, a-lyin'
face down, with his throat cut from year
to year Amt the stain o. the blood
thar still, sun? 'Tusc to be, do what
they would to git it out. They say
blood stain won't never scrub clean. -
John Speed glanced furtivcly over his
shoulder, wet his dry lips with a tongue
that was stiff and cold and stcadicd on
the leaf of his desk the hand that clutch
ed che letter. a horrible sense of un-
reality possessed him. Now that ex-
planation had come, there was no full
crum on which to rest crcduhty. Then
tho floating haze of letters subsidized into
lines, the lines from curves into levels.
He went on:
"When | got back home | made Il
clean breast of the matter to my father.
Mother was luckily away from home |
really think the good man doubted my
sanity and your vcracity for at least ten
minutes We went together to the
drawing room, locked ourselves III,
moved the piano and pulled up the cor
ner of the carpet The stain is there
a big, brownish splash, running off in
large and smaller streams with the grain
g l.. Il Il .. 4